


Afterlife

by neverweremine



Category: Klaus (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rise of the Guardians Fusion, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22432960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverweremine/pseuds/neverweremine
Summary: The yeti passed him without a second glance, carrying a rocking horse twice the size of his torso. Overhead, trains flew along invisible train tracks and hot air balloons floated past a large globe in the workshop's center, glittering with a million little golden lights. Another yeti jostled past, — His? Her? Their? — thick fur coat soft where it touched his skin. He twisted and turned and caught the railing as his feet stumbled over… an elf. He recalled seeing them yesterday from afar. Up close they were … smaller than he expected.
Relationships: Jesper Johanssen/Klaus, Klaus/Lydia (Klaus 2019)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Afterlife

"Mom, I want that!"

"Well, if you're good, maybe Santa Claus will give it to you for Christmas, sweetie."

" — and I heard last year Jakob got coals — "

"No way, I thought that was a myth!"

"I'm gonna write for a toy reindeer; one that flies."

" — and if you leave cookies and milk — "

A man dangled from a balcony, a rope tied to his waist the only thing preventing him from certain death. He held a large star in his hand and everyone cheered as he placed it upon the whale skeleton, lighting up the rows and rows of bulbs encircling the skeleton's ribs. What a weird tradition. At least the trees were easier to set up.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Jesper knew she wasn't talking to him — no one ever talked to him — but he turned towards her, anyway. An older woman stood near, her eyes reflecting the shining lights and her long gray hair pulled into a tight bun. Next to her, a stout man with a sailor's cap and the sagging jowls of a hound dog shook his head.

"You say that every year."

"And every year I'm right. It's beautiful."

"Even this year?"

A mournfulness soured the lady's wrinkled face, and an impulse overtook him then, urging him to reach towards her and place a hand on her shoulder; tell her everything was alright — that _he_ was alright — but as quick as the thought had come, it vanished. She dabbed her eyes with the ends of her scarf and whispered, "Especially this year." Then turned and walked right through him.

He should have gotten used to this — the iciness, the gaping emptiness — but tears blurred his vision regardless, and he stifled his urge to cry out as the man passed through him too. The words stuck at the bottom of his throat, "I'm here, I'm here too, please don't ignore me," but it's not like they could listen.

No one ever listened.

"Jesper?"

His head snapped at the call of that name. His name. He hadn't heard his name since the day he woke, months ago, under the watchful eye of the moon. A lady stood behind him, somewhere between late twenties and early thirties, brown hair cut to her shoulders, warm brown eyes. An unknown stranger, but the way she looked at him spoke of familiarity — and she could see him. Not through him but _him_.

"Jesper," she said, hand outstretched, "is that you?"

He breathed for the first time the moment she touched his shoulder.

.

"So where are we going?" Jesper asked over the roaring wind, trying not to fall because _the wind was carrying them_. Or, it was carrying him, with the bumps and lifts that carrying entailed. Lydia laughed as he twirled head over feet, her own wind surfing more resembling flight than his own awkward bumbling. "Because no offense, but I only met you ten minutes ago — "

"Sixty years ago," she corrected, "but with your memory loss, I won't hold it against you. And you'll know it when you see it."

Jesper flailed as the wind dipped him low to the ground, his feet skimming over the heads of restless walruses, before popping him back next to Lydia, "I'm sorry," he squeaked. "What?"

"Oh, there it is!"

.

She left him in the foyer of what she called 'the workshop'. Jesper found it more apt to call it a tundra palace. He stood there, in a foyer bigger than any building he'd seen, coated in red carpet and golden light so warm it reminded him of sitting beside a hearth — of thick, fluffy blankets tucked to his chin. A rare feeling, considering he had no memories of a hearth or blankets, and even the worst snowstorms in Smeerensburg were nothing more than a chill upon his skin.

"Here he is," Lydia declared as she returned, her arms hugging another arm larger than her head and attached to a man that could've been mistaken for a half-giant. He had short brown hair with matching beard, a crooked nose, blue eyes, and the attire of a common laborer — simple brown vest, white shirt, worker's pants — but then as they neared, he changed. The hair and beard grew long and gray, long lines carved themselves onto his face; the simple vest became a large brown coat that made the man seem bigger than he was. By the time they stopped in front of him, if not for the thick brows, crooked nose, and those sparkling eyes, it was as if another man had taken his place altogether.

"It's you," the shifting stranger said thickly, "It's really you." The man broke off from Lydia and placed one large hand underneath Jesper's chin; lifting it until he could do nothing but stare into those raw blue eyes. "We've been waiting so long. I 've had a room readied for you and I'm so glad — " Those eyes widened, thick brows raising to his gray hairline. "Not that I'm glad you're dead, that is — I mean — "

So he was dead. He had guessed as much, but the confirmation still shook him. Who had he been before? How did the three of them meet? Was this the afterlife? Why did he have no memory?

Jesper was so absorbed in his little revelation that he didn't even notice the man pull him into a kiss until all he could register was the scratch of beard, peppermint, and his mind screaming, " _What_!?" He struggled to escape the man's hold but found himself held in place by a hand at the base of his skull and an arm wrapped around his waist. He squeaked into the kiss and to his — Horror? Surprise? Pleasure? — the half-giant gave a pleased hum against his lips.

"Klaus! Dear, he doesn't — Jesper doesn't have his memories!"

Jesper gasped for air as the man let him go. He scrambled backwards until he hit the door and gaped at the stranger, whose pallor became shades paler. "He doesn't — ?"

"No, it's my fault, I should've told you beforehand." Lydia wrung her hands, face pinched. "Dear, Jesper's been wandering Smeerensburg these past few months. He woke up without his memories and — "

"And I — " The stranger cupped his mouth. His eyes darted to Jesper, huddled near the door. "I'm so sorry," he said. And Jesper should've been focusing on the apology — on the tense silence that descended the room as they awaited his response — but his mind considered other things. He looked over the stranger again. A large man. Big beard. Blue eyes. Lived at the North Pole in a workshop. And did she say his name was — Was he — ? He couldn't have — Did he — ?

" _Did Santa Claus just kiss me?"_

.

.

.

.

.

"It's Klaus. No Santa; don't know how that one even began," Klaus said. They were further into the workshop, past the bustle of elves and yetis and what else? Oh yeah, _the magical toys for all the good children of the world_. Jesper sat in a proffered chair at the dining room table, back ramrod straight and sweating as if he'd been summoned to a royal high court. Lydia and Klaus sat opposite him, their shoulders close enough to brush — the royal king and queen.

"So let me get this straight, I was once a normal human being who lived in Smeerensburg and while living in Smeerensburg I met you — " Here, he pointed at Lydia.

"Well... I passed away by the time we met."

"Passed away— ? You were _dead_?" Jesper slumped in his chair and tried to work out what that could mean, but then realized _he_ was dead. Chances were, everyone at this table was dead. He could — He could work with that. "Okay, so you were dead and I was alive. Was I — " He laid out his hands on the table. "Did I have ghost-seeing abilities or something?"

"Oh no, you weren't able to see me until years later. So we hadn't _met_ -met when you arrived at Smeerensburg, but we have met and known each other for a long time. Sixty years, remember?"

Jesper nodded and hummed as if it made sense when in reality his world was crumbling by the minute. He directed his stare at Klaus, because at this point he had to ask. "Did I also meet you while you were…dead?"

"No, we met while alive. In fact, you're the one who kick-started this whole tradition."

"Flying reindeer, chimney hopping, letter writing and all," Lydia added.

"Me?" Jesper pointed at his chest, "I started the — the Santa Claus thing?" They both nodded as if it were obvious, which _newsflash_ , it wasn't. The Santa mythos never mentioned a Jesper. How was he supposed to know he created it? "That can't be right, I'm — I — I don't even know my last name! How could I have created," he shook his hands to emphasize the pizzaz, the magic, the sheer absurdity, "Santa Claus?"

"It's Johanssen," Klaus stated. "Your name is Jesper Johanssen."

"Oh." He leaned back. For months, he contemplated 'Jesper' — who he was, where he came from, if there was more to him than the clothes on his back and a first name; never had he imagined this. He had had a life. A job. Friends. An incredible legacy of his own making.

Funny, but this newfound knowledge didn't ease the emptiness in his chest like he thought it would.

A large hand encased his. Blue eyes stared at him with warmth. "I know it's a lot to take in. Like I said earlier, I made a room for you; we can have a yeti take you there if you're tired or need time to process."

Something inside him wanted to squeeze back. He didn't, but he didn't draw back either."Thanks, but I still have more questions."

"Then ask away."

Jesper's eyes slid from Klaus — whose earnest eyes peered through him and whose long beard summoned a faint pressure across his mouth — to Lydia, who called Klaus 'dear' and held onto his arm as if it was second-nature. He took them both in, the couple whom sat so close their sides brushed.

"Am I a homewrecker?" He asked. Their astonished expressions sent him spiraling into motion. He turned to Lydia. "I mean, you're Mrs. Klaus, aren't you? And you said you died before we met, which, I mean, I don't have the whole timeline in front of me but you called him 'dear' ,and I'm learning that not everything is as it seems but there's probably a reason there's a Mrs. Klaus mythos but not a 'Jesper' one and I need to know if I'm a third wheel or something else because it's obvious to assume something is going on here. That kiss was, uh, how do I put it? _Passionate, breath-taking, very unexpected,_ and, uh — "

Klaus squeezed his hand again. Jesper's mouth clicked shut. "First things first, it's Mr. and Mrs. Lund; Klaus is my first name. Second, yes, Lydia and I were married before we met. You and I didn't date until — "

" — until after Lydia died." His eyes flickered to her, but she didn't seem perturbed by the statement. She didn't even flinch.

"Well, I was going to say after _I_ died," Klaus explained, except that made zero sense.

"Am I into necrophilia or something!?" He shouted. "Why — How — ?"

"We used to visit you every Christmas after Klaus passed," Lydia informed him, "It was the only day we could contact the living and we spent it with you. Last year, we had a lovely time trading stories in your kitchen. This year, we were planning on seeing if your old bones could still dance, but…" She gestured at him across the table from them. Dead. Right.

Sixty years. She said she'd known him for sixty years. He had been over sixty and now he was… How old was he now? In the reflections of glass windows and murky puddles, he looked young, but as he pulled his hand back he spotted liver spots and wrinkles dancing across his skin. Shifting. He dropped his hands to his lap and tried not to think about it.

"You said 'you and I', does that mean — ?"

"We're not dating," Lydia answered, "I love you, Jesper, but not like that."

"And you're," he squinted at her, "okay with that?"

"Why wouldn't it be? I'm the one who suggested it."

Jesper sat there, statuesque and too shocked for words.

"Any other questions?" Klaus asked.

"Why don't I remember any of this?"

Husband and wife exchanged a long glance. "That's a little harder to answer."

.

The next day Jesper awoke in his room — the room made for him, with the soft blue covers and large, over-fluffed pillows and the softest sheets that reminded him of silk — and went through what he knew.

  1. His name was Jesper Johanssen.
  2. He was dead. Had been dead for several months. In retrospect, it wasn't much of a surprise with the invisibility and non-corporeality, but still, noted.
  3. He was dead, which meant he was once alive. He had no memory of any of it.
  4. According to them, while alive, he helped create Christmas as the world knows it and joined a weird polyamorous relationship with Dead Not-Santa-Claus and Dead Not-Mrs.-Claus.
  5. He was in the North Pole with said mystical ghost polyamorous partners.
  6. He had no idea how to act around them. How does one act in this situation? _They made him a room and he didn't even know their birthdays._ Deathdays?



Jesper dug his fingers into the soft silken sheets, let go, and then grabbed a pillow and screamed into it and didn't stop until his lungs were burning for air. What now? Unasked questions rattled his brain and his heart yearned to learn more. Yesterday, the influx of information scrambled his head but now he was rested and ready for another round of interrogations.

But first, he had to find them.

.

"Um, excuse me, sir. I'm a little lost. Do you know where I can find — "

The yeti passed him without a second glance, carrying a rocking horse twice the size of his torso. Overhead, trains flew along invisible train tracks and hot air balloons floated past a large globe in the workshop's center, glittering with a million little golden lights. Another yeti jostled past, — His? Her? Their? — thick fur coat soft where it touched his skin. He twisted and turned and caught the railing as his feet stumbled over… an elf. He recalled seeing them yesterday from afar. Up close they were … smaller than he expected.

He knelt next to them. "Hey little guy, you wouldn't happen to know where Klaus and Lydia are, would — OW!" Jesper reared back as pain bloomed from his nose. "Get off, get off, get off!" He grabbed the elf by its lower half and pulled until it let go. Working off pure instinct, he pulled back and chucked it into a sea of toy soldiers. The yeti working on said toy soldiers stared at him in betrayal.

"Gootha!?"

"It bit me!"

""Gootha! Gootha!" The yeti gestured to the bowled over toys with frantic sweeps of his arm.

"Do I have rabies now? Am I — Will I transform into a little elf with the large bell and the curved hat and — "

"Jesper — "

"Am I going to re-die?"

"Jesper — "

Two slender hands grasped him by the chin. "Jesper, you'll be fine. I guess we should've warned you, the elves bite."

"Lydia?"

.

" — and then he said, 'Well, if you've nowhere else to go — "

"Really? Just like that?" Lydia was giving him the full tour of the workshop. They had stopped by the infirmary first, to ensure Jesper's nose was fine, then worked out from there. The kitchens bustled with yeti in chef hats wielding knives, the various storage rooms were more akin to mini-warehouses overflowing with toy parts, and now they were venturing back into the belly of the beast; the place where the toys came to life.

"Yes, and I love him to bits but even I thought we should throw them out."

"So the whole 'elves help make the toys' thing…?"

"Made up. The yetis help make the toys. They've been a wonderful addition to the team; you should've seen us we first started, always struggling to meet the deadline. The elves are mostly for decoration."

"I can't believe I ever could've forgotten this. I mean, it's so — " A hummingbird made of ice zoomed by, its tiny wings as graceful and fluid as those constructed from blood and tissue. "Look at that! How could I ever forget that?"

Lydia laughed, and it was like chimes blowing in the wind, at odds with the yeti yelling across the main floor and the jingling of the elves' costumes as they scampered by. They descended the stairs and maneuvered their way through the fray, Lydia explaining as she ducked and weaved through yeti and elf alike; her hand warm as she clasped his. "Over there are the painting stations and over there is the testing arena — that's where we give the toys for the elves to test. If the elves break it, then it means it needs reworking, and — oh, here is my personal station."

She guided him to a small workbench scattered with wood shavings and half-finished toys; untouched blocks of wood sat atop her bench like fresh pencils on the first day of school, waiting for that first mark on a blank paper.

"You make toys too?"

"I have to help where I can, don't I? I can't make anything extraordinary, no leaping frogs or flying planes, but I can do the basics. Klaus offered to make me a personal workbench in a quieter environment but," she grinned ear to ear and gestured to the surrounding chaos, "I prefer this." She grabbed a wood planer and handed it to him, "Would you like to try?"

"Me? I can't — I mean, I've never — " Yet, as he stared at the wood planer in his hand, it shifted. His hands, once smooth and free of any calluses transformed into artisan's hands; faded scars he couldn't remember earning lining his now weathered palms. "What is — Can you see this?" He held up the appendages and twisted them to better catch the light. "I'm shifting! Klaus was shifting!" He gazed at Lydia with narrowed eyes, "Can you shift?"

"Past this age? No. We're dead, but death is malleable. We appear as we were in our life — at any point in our lives. We appear as we perceive ourselves, but I never lived past my thirties and thus, that's as old as I can appear. But you — you've lived a long life, and when you think of yourself as old..." She gave him a simple smile. "Do you get what I'm saying? Sorry, it's difficult to explain."

"No, I got it." He placed the planer back onto the bench and watched as his hands became smaller and unblemished. "I appear as old or as young as I want to appear."

"Yes. It works the other way too. Let me take a guess and say when you see Klaus, he has white hair, wrinkles around the eyes, and a long beard about," she gestured at mid-torso level, "here."

"How did you — ?"

"Because that's what he looked like when you first met him. It's hard to explain, but I don't think even your memory loss can change how you perceive him unconsciously. Magic is tricky that way."

"But when I see him near you..."

She nodded. "Because when I see Klaus, my most powerful memory of him is when we were alive, and so that's how he appears to me. Our perceptions of each other can sometimes overlap, creating a shift."

"And how do you see me?"

"Mid-thirties?" She hummed. "Or late thirties. There's gray on the edges of your temple," Her hand, slender but firm, brushed the side of his face, "but still young." She cupped his cheek and her eyes were so fond, her hand so gentle, and touch-starved as he was, he couldn't help but lean into it.

"There you two are," Lydia's hand fell. They turned to find Klaus cutting a swath through the crowded ground floor. "I was getting worried. Hello, dear," he wrapped an arm around his wife's waist and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, and for a moment their perceptions overlapped and Jesper got a glimpse of them as they were: same age, newly married, Klaus' wedding ring flashing from where his hand rested on her back; the picture of innocent youth. Even when he let her go and became gray once more, spry love still twinkled in his eyes.

It struck Jesper then, how unfair it was to have met Klaus so late in life. His heart held an undeniable yearning that told him he'd have loved seeing the older man in his younger years, to have spent more time together — but wasn't this it? Death, the great equalizer, giving them the rest of eternity, if only he had the memories to cherish such a gift.

Klaus moved from his wife to Jesper in a fluid motion and for a moment Jesper was certain Klaus would kiss him too, but then the larger man halted, his large hand ghosting over Jesper's waist before disappearing altogether. "Hello, Jesper. How are you liking the workshop so far?"

"It's good," he said. "Great, even. I got bit by an elf."

"Are you alright? Does it still hurt? I can take you to the infirmary. Here, let's — "

"I'm fine," he swatted at the panicked hands, "Lydia already took me to the infirmary. Nothing's wrong."

"Good, that's — " Klaus sighed and dragged a hand over his face, "I should've warned you about them." And the worry was so familiar, like ache he's had to soothe a thousand times.

"Hey, what did I say big guy?" He patted those large arms and peered up at those blue eyes. He put on his best smile. "It's fine. I'm fine. Did you need one of us or did you only come to worry?"

"Oh, I um — " Klaus shook his head as if breaking from a trance and said, "I wanted to tell you, I know a way to get your memory back."

"Oh, that's — " _Great? Horrible? I didn't know it would be so easy after months of wandering that winter wonderland alone?_ " — good. How?"

"Toothiana," he answered. Jesper leaned over Klaus shoulder to Lydia.

"The Tooth Fairy," she explained. "She's another guardian. The guardian of memories."

A few feet away, a yeti jumped, hands reaching out to catch a flying toy plane operated by an elf wearing pilot goggles. As Lydia came nearer, he could see Klaus — the man responsible for giving _every child on Earth_ a Christmas present — flicker between a younger and older version of himself. He was in the _North Pole_ for afterlife's sake, and yet…

"The Tooth Fairy? The one who takes your kids' teeth and leaves you a quarter?"

"There's only one. Well, no, there are miniature versions of her, but they're more like helpers. There's only one Tooth Fairy."

"Okay, I can work with that. I can — " He took a steadying breath and exhaled. "Tooth Fairy. Yeah, okay. Good. So what's a guardian?"

.

They had a short conversation over bowls of steaming porridge. Klaus was a guardian; someone chosen by the man on the moon to protect the world's children. Other guardians included such classic hits as: the Sandman, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. The Tooth Fairy, who was also the guardian of memories.

"She's a busy person, but I'm sure she'll come by if I call. In the meantime, have you seen the reindeer yet? They've missed you."

And so while Klaus made the call, Jesper and Lydia visited the stables located in an underground ice cavern attached to the workshop. The moment he entered the stables proper, the reindeer perked their heads and some even abandoned their yeti caretakers and began circling them. He pressed himself next to Lydia who shook her head with a fond smile.

"They missed you," she said, stepping to the side. He cowered as he became vulnerable to their abyssal stares and animal curiosity. "Go on," she urged, "pet one."

Jesper raised a shaking hand and gasped as a wet and chilly snout nuzzled into his palm. He waited for a beat before running a hand through its — 'her,' his mind provided — flank. The winter coat was soft and thick and he relaxed as his caressed the soothing texture. Soon he was petting two reindeer while the rest stood, waiting for their turn.

"I'm sorry — for not checking up on you sooner," Lydia said into the quiet that descended upon them. "We knew your time was coming soon, but I didn't think to check-in and you must've been so confused, waking up alone and without your memories…"

"Hey," Jesper stopped petting despite multiple grunts of protests and turned to her. He ran his hands down her arm and rested them near her elbows. She stared at him from under her lashes. "I get it. It's not like you could've predicted the exact day I'd die, and you came for me in the end, didn't you? So you were a few months late; so what? Better than a century, right?"

The corner of her lips quirked upwards and her folded arms fell to the side. "You always were a smooth talker," she said.

"Was I?"

She snorted. "Gods, no. I mean, sometimes," she amended, "when the situation called for it." A fondness lit her eyes; a faint nostalgia for someone both here and not. He stood there in too large shoes custom-tailored for him. The reindeer pressed their antlers to his back, the rigid bones digging into his skin, but he couldn't spare them much attention. His mind whirled with thoughts of who he was; a faint glimmer of someone peering at him through murky waters.

Murky waters that shook as the ground vibrated, pieces of ice and dust falling to the floor. A stalactite fell from the roof and shattered next to them, causing the reindeer to go wild.

"Gootha!" The yeti handlers yelled. Jesper grasped Lydia and pulled her from the flying of hooves and antlers as the yeti began herding the reindeer back into their pens.

"Is this normal?" He asked.

Jesper's heart dropped into his stomach as Lydia turned to him.

"Something's wrong."

.

They rushed up the stairs and burst into the workshop. The first thing Jesper noticed was the deathly silence. There was no bustle of feet or unintelligible yells or clatter of tools on workbenches. The second thing he noticed was the yetis. A third of them were sweeping away ashen toys but the other two other third were either putting out fires — in the workshop or on themselves, small patches of yeti fur blackened and smoking — or standing stock still in reminisce of attending a funeral pyre.

The third thing he noticed was Klaus stood at the center of the room, head bowed.

"Oh dear," Lydia whispered. She broke off and scurried to her husband's side, leaving him to approach with caution, his eyes taking in the destruction. What happened?

"This is a disaster. Christmas is two weeks away and half the toys have _exploded_. If we don't restock — "

"Everything will be fine, dear. We'll have to work twice as hard — "

" — If we miss the deadline, then the kids — "

Something cracked below him. The Lunds' head snapped towards him. Jesper lifted his booth to find the ice hummingbird from earlier lay shattered at his feet. Klaus' face, if possible, became even more distressed. "I'm sorry, Jesper, I haven't called Toothiana yet. I'll do that right away, I just got caught up in…" He gazed across the workshop; the mess of ruined presents and the yetis smothering small fires in thick blankets. A group of yetis were coralling elves who ducked, shame-faced, as Klaus' eyes passed over them with stern disapproval. One elf had their hat twisted around a plane propeller. Klaus shook his head and sighed. "I'll go call her now — "

"No," Jesper snapped. He ignored Klaus' startled look, "We can save that for later. Christmas is in peril and we can't afford distractions. I want to help."

"But your memories — "

"I've lasted this long without them, I can at least wait until after Christmas." He stepped closer — closer to this myth of a man; a myth he'd created. "Tell me how I can help."

"Oh, Jesper," Klaus said, and the pure affection in his voice had his heart skipping a beat. "Are you sure?"

And what else was there to say? Something bubbled up in his chest, and he spoke without thought, "A true selfless act — "

" — always sparks another." Klaus and Lydia finished.

He blinked at the two of them. "So you two know that saying too?"

Klaus and Lydia laughed; a secret in-joke that melted the worry from their faces — and for the first time in a long time — Jesper felt as if he were right where he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Neverweremine1)


End file.
